


There's biology in everything

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: Paper Tigers [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Communication, Consensual Kink, Inception Bingo, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: When Arthur finally asks for something more than Eames can give, they have to either start talking or stop everything else.





	There's biology in everything

**Author's Note:**

> My fifth Inception Bingo story, for the "biological imperative" square. 
> 
> This story takes place in the [Paper Tigers](https://archiveofourown.org/series/985980) universe and will likely not make much sense without reading those stories first.

“What do you know about biological imperatives?”

The question was completely out of nowhere. Arthur and Eames were the last ones in the office, working out potential escape routes. Arthur hadn’t said a bloody word in at least twenty minutes.

“Excuse me?” Eames asked, sitting up and stretching. “Biological imperatives?”

Arthur nodded, as if the question had been completely normal. “Yes. What do you know about them?”

Eames was still puzzled. “You mean like air, water, food, sleep, companionship from your own kind?”

Arthur nodded again. “Exactly.” He looked back at his laptop screen.

“I guess...you can go two days without water, two weeks without food...that kind of thing?”

Arthur shook his head. “You ought to know better than that boy scout stuff, Eames.”

Eames grinned. “OK. I know that if you’re in a desert, you’re not making it two days without water. I know that exposure is usually a bigger risk than starvation. I know that oxygen deprivation is a whole lot faster than any of those. Is that what you’re looking for? Are we torturing somebody?”

Arthur looked up and smirked. “No.” Then he went back to his work again, the subject apparently closed.

Later, in his hotel, Eames tried to figure out what the hell Arthur had been getting at. His always strange behavior seemed especially so. Usually, by this point in a job, Eames was able to lure Arthur out of his work self at least once or twice--maybe not get him all the way into bed, but at least get his pupils dilated and his posture changed. This time, there had been no indication that Arthur found Eames to be anything other than a pest. Eames hadn’t stopped trying, but he was watching Arthur for clues even more carefully than usual.

This was one of Eames’ favorite parts of their game--Arthur was such a puzzle, and one that changed every time Eames tried to solve it. As the stakes in the bedroom (or alley, or car, or over the desk in the office) got higher, the buzz between them seemed sometimes so intense it must actually be audible. The more Arthur was undone behind a closed door, the more tightly wound he appeared when he wasn’t. Eames wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not, but it was absolutely an enticing one.

Two nights later, when the bizarre chat about biological imperatives had completely slipped Eames’ mind, he got one of Arthur’s cryptic emails. He used the same generic address for this one as he had the last, which Eames found a little bit sloppy (by Arthur’s standards). The email contained only a few URLs, no actual text.

After spending half an hour clicking through the links, Eames was flushed and uncertain. Arthur’s bringing up biological imperatives had gone a completely different direction than he’d expected. Once again, he’d underestimated Arthur’s ability to surprise. After giving it more thought than it was probably due, Eames sent an email response:

_This is something we need to talk about first._

There was no reply.

The job ended. Eames had given up trying to seduce Arthur--it clearly wasn’t working, and he was losing whatever upper hand he’d gained over the past months. After the team debriefed and began to scatter, he thought of cornering Arthur and forcing the issue, but decided against it. He honestly had no idea if it would be welcome.

“Hey Eames, was there something we needed to discuss?” Arthur’s voice was the same as always, half-distracted and no-nonsense. He was stowing his pens and notebooks in his laptop case. He didn’t look up.

“I don’t know, darling, is there?” Eames kept his voice casual. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the links Arthur sent, and he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to say about them, but if Arthur was willing to talk, then they could talk.

Arthur sat down and motioned for Eames to do so as well. Then he looked at Eames and waited.

“OK,” Eames began, clearing his throat. Trust Arthur to make this as uncomfortable for him as possible. “First, I’m...not sure what you’re after here, exactly. Those links you sent covered a lot of things…” Unbelievably, he could feel his face start to heat up.

Arthur smirked. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Any of it? All of it?”

Eames forced his shudder down. “Some of that is really not safe.”

Arthur shrugged again. “OK.” He was unimpressed.

Eames forced himself to go on. “Have you...done any of it before?”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Movement restriction, holding forced positions, that kind of thing. Not that big a deal. Choking.”

Eames studied his hands, trying to give himself time to think. “What about the rest?”

Arthur looked thoughtful. “You asked how far it goes, before. This might be a way to find out. A lot of it would be new to me.” He almost smiled. “Could be fun.”

Eames wished he could take the joy he usually would in Arthur’s near-smile. The longer they talked, though, the more he felt sick--not the stomach tingling of excitement, but real, anxious nausea. “I don’t know,” he said, slowly. “Arthur, have you ever actually been tortured?”

“In real life, or in a dream?”

“Either.”

“In a dream, yes. In real life...depends what you mean by torture, I guess?”

“A lot of this stuff,” Eames said slowly, “a lot of it just sounds like torture to me. Refusing food. Refusing water. Forcing captivity. It doesn’t sound...sexy. It sounds awful.” He hadn’t intended his rebuttal to be quite so strong, but there is was, anyway.

Arthur’s face shuttered. “You could have just said no,” he said, standing. “We didn’t need to have a whole discussion about it if you were going to be like that.”

“No, Arthur,” Eames reached out to take Arthur’s arm, but he pulled away. “We can talk about it. Some of it...might be OK?” He tried not to panic. It was quite possible he’d just ruined everything he’d been slowly, tentatively trying to build with Arthur.

Arthur scowled. “Don’t worry about it, Eames.” He looked around the room. “You ready to go? I have a flight to catch.”

Eames sighed. He knew there was no way he’d get Arthur back into his good graces right now. He was just going to have to wait.

Eames stewed for several weeks. He didn’t hear a word from Arthur, which was to be expected after a job, even without the extra drama. The more he thought about it, though, the more he wasn’t just upset at himself, but was upset at Arthur. The longer he went without hearing from Arthur, the more irritated he was.

When Arthur finally called, it was about a job. Something reasonably safe and low-effort, with a decent payout. It was the kind of thing Eames typically accepted from Arthur without a second thought. This time, though, he paused for just long enough for Arthur to take it in.

“Are we going to have a problem now, Eames?” Arthur’s voice was tight. Eames pictured him pinching the scowl lines between his eyes.

“Not necessarily, pet.” Eames tried to keep his voice soothing. “I just think there are some things we should iron out before we work together again.”

Arthur exhaled. “I thought you got it,” he said. “I don’t want to...discuss...this.” He made it sound like a filthy word, something putrid and slimy.

“I understand that, Arthur, but from what I’ve read, discussing it is absolutely key.”

Arthur snorted. “What you’ve read? Are you studying?”

Eames shrugged and rolled his eyes. “If I’m going to do a thing, I’d like to do it with full knowledge.”

Arthur was quiet, so he continued. “Look, Arthur, I...I like this. What we’ve had going. A lot. In ways I didn’t expect. I’m not saying I want to stop.”

Arthur remained silent.

“But there are things I just can’t do, and more things I can’t do without talking about them first. And if that’s not something we can come to a compromise on, then I’m not sure we can keep up with what we’ve been doing.”

Eames hated to say it. He knew--had known for a while, really--that he was afraid of backing down and losing Arthur. It was clear that this thing he provided for Arthur, whatever they wanted to call it, was what kept him coming back. But he’d tried, for weeks, to picture himself doing the things that Arthur was asking him to do, and he just couldn’t even imagine trying. If those things were truly what Arthur needed, they were going to have to come from somebody else.

When Arthur still didn’t speak, Eames kept on, filling the dead air. “I have started to feel like we’re playing chicken, you and I. Like you’re coming up with the most extreme things you can, maybe because they arouse you, but maybe because you want to see how far you can push me before I push back. I’m not sure that’s how this is supposed to work. If it is, though, you win. This is where I push back.”

Eames could hear Arthur breathing on the other end of the line, but he didn’t speak for a long time. “I understand,” he finally said, voice stiff. “I hope we can still work together.”

Eames’ heart sank. He knew that it wasn’t likely, but he’d hoped Arthur would at least consider a conversation about what they both wanted, could both handle, and a continuation of their relationship. He couldn’t help but try again. “Are you sure, Arthur? It seems like you’ve been enjoying…”

Arthur cut him off. “It’s been fun, Eames,” he said. His voice was stilted and a little far away, as if he’d moved the phone from his mouth. “But if you’re not into it, you’re not into it. That’s fair.”

Eames growled in frustration. “I said I wasn’t into this ONE thing, Arthur. I think I made it clear that I am very into the rest of it. Is this one thing a dealbreaker?”

Arthur had that incredible ability to frown so loud you could hear it, even over thousands of miles. “No,” he said. “This was just an idea. But you thinking that what I’m doing is playing chicken, rather than trying to be honest about things that arouse me, and being judgmental about them? That’s a dealbreaker.” He exhaled sharply. “Now, this conversation is over. Do you want in on the job, or not?”

After the call disconnected, Eames sat in silence for a long time. He’d mishandled the situation. On the other hand, though, he wasn’t sure it was set up with any possibility for him to handle it well, besides just doing what Arthur wanted. It was just like everything else with the two of them--he was allowed inside Arthur’s sphere to the exact degree Arthur permitted, and only so long as he was behaving in the way Arthur prescribed. For months, that had been fun--it had been enough. It was a rush to be this thing for Arthur, even if it was a role he didn’t assign himself. It was a game, the kind of challenge he liked, both physically and mentally. In truth, though, he’d spent months wanting more. He’d spent months biting down on his tongue, keeping himself from suggesting they also do other things, things that might not hurt. The farther in he’d gotten, the more he’d wanted those things, and the more he’d denied himself even thinking about them.

Eames realized that some of Arthur’s icy hostility could be contributed to embarrassment. He had to be a bit embarrassed to have made this request and been completely denied, and it was true that Eames’ discomfort could have been expressed in more neutral terms. That still left the question, though, of whether Arthur would ever be willing to continue a relationship with Eames if Eames insisted on more discussion and more collaboration. Arthur had started all this with the insistence that he not talk about what was happening, and that had carried all the way through. Was that the actual deal breaker?

As the job approached, Eames grew more anxious about seeing Arthur. Still, they were professionals, and they’d worked together under worse circumstances. At least this time it was unlikely they’d be run over by a rogue train, or dropped into Limbo. Arthur was cool and efficient, treating Eames the same way he always had. There were no hot looks between them, no fleeting touches. When Eames brought Arthur a coffee on the second morning, he took it and said “thank you.” It was impossible to tell whether that constituted progress.

For the duration of the job, and for the weeks afterward, Eames waited. He wasn’t patient by nature, but he’d always had an indication that Arthur was worth waiting for. Finally, nearly three months after their initial phone call, he got another email from Arthur’s proxy account. It was possibly the longest email message he’d ever received from Arthur:

_I’ve thought about what you said. It’s not unreasonable to expect a negotiation and agreed-upon terms when approaching a potentially dangerous encounter. If you are willing, I’d like to enter into those talks._

Eames couldn’t help but laugh. Trust Arthur to hide behind the language of business. Still, sounded like a promising start. He shot back a message.

_Ta, darling. Your place or mine?_

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


End file.
